


Breakfast At Tiffany’s

by hevans814



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Clay | Dream Sings (Video Blogging RPF), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead Of My Paper, Inspired by Music, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, breakfast at tiffany’s, it’s not actually that sad I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29618838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hevans814/pseuds/hevans814
Summary: “And I said, ‘What about ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s?’’, you said ‘I think I remember the film,’”Dream closed his eyes and sang even louder, letting the melody carry him away.“‘And as I recall, I think we both kinda liked it,’ and I said, ‘Well, that’s one thing we’ve got,’”Dream heard a noise, a quiet shifting on the other side of the door. A smile pulled at his mouth, bittersweet.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	Breakfast At Tiffany’s

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what possessed me to write this. This isn’t my shtick at all, but get into it, ig. 
> 
> if they ever don’t want shipping anymore, I yeet & delete this. 
> 
> please listen to “breakfast at tiffany’s”, both the og and the cover by quietdrive.

“Stop, I don’t want to talk to you anymore!” George called out as he whirled around the corner and paced to his bedroom, filled with anger, tense, hands clenched in fists. Dream was hot on his heels, still reaching out, still incensed, and George rounded to face him. Dream caught the frustration and exhaustion welling up in his eyes like a bullet to the chest.

George’s eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a deep breath. His eyes opened steely. “Fuck you.”  


His voice didn’t waver. 

He slammed the door behind him. 

Dream stood there, clenching his own hands, emotions rushing through him like a whirlwind, full of confusion, overstimulating. After a moment, he took slow steps forward to stand in front of the closed door. A door closed, an ending. But it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t right. 

Dream set his hand gently against the hollowed wood, smooth to the touch. A flash across his mind, he imagined his hand on George’s cheek. 

This wasn’t right. 

“George,” he called quietly, like a secret. There was no response.

Dream sunk to the ground, back to the door and arms resting on his knees. He couldn’t begin to sort through the anger, the frustration, the sadness, the panic that said he was  _ losing him _ , so he sat there, and let it all fade into one resounding command in his mind.  _ Wait. Be here _ _._ For whatever came next, Dream would be here, showing that he cared. He would sit on the un-vacuumed carpet forever if he had to. George had to know. 

He could feel George’s presence on the other side of the door, so close, but across a chasm, a trench that they’d knelt side by side in and dug into with angry words and poor communication. But none of the small things truly mattered, not in the face of the imposing fact that now they’d retreated to enemy sides, and George was beyond his reach. Probably—not entirely. 

But Dream was here. He was here, and he would wait. 

He waited. Time passed. He waited.

Almost surprising himself, he began to hum, which turned into mumbling the words to an old song from the nineties that used to play on the radio all the time when he was a kid. 

_ “You say we got nothing in common, no common ground to start from, and we’re falling apart,” _

Dream’s breath caught in his throat, and he started tapping out the rhythm on his legs to distract himself from the hurt. Play the pain away. 

_ “You say the world has come between us, our lives have come between us, still I know you just don’t care,” _

Dream could hear the halting emotion in his own voice. He tilted his head up to rest against the door, and let the well-worn words push the feelings right out of his heart, in a language he could express, even as his feelings blustered through him like a storm. 

_ “And I said, ‘What about ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s?’’, you said ‘I think I remember the film,’” _

Dream closed his eyes and sang even louder, letting the melody carry him away.

_ “‘And as I recall, I think we both kinda liked it,’ and I said, ‘Well, that’s one thing we’ve got,’” _

Dream heard a noise, a quiet shifting on the other side of the door. A smile pulled at his mouth, bittersweet. 

_ “So what now? It’s plain to see, we’re over. I hate when things are over, when so much is left undone,” _

“I’m not done yet,” Dream said quietly to the door.

He couldn’t tell if he imagined it—if it was wishful thinking, or a whisper calling out to him—“Me neither.”

Either way, it was time for the chorus again.

_ “And I said, ‘What about ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s?’’, you said ‘I think I remember the film, and as recall, I think we both kinda liked it—“ _

The door opened, just a crack, causing Dream to stumble backwards and stop singing. He looked up and met George’s warm eyes. He seemed to waver between something more neutral and a smile, and Dream felt his own face do the same. It seemed they both didn’t quite know what this meant yet.

“Well, that’s one thing we’ve got.” 

Dream froze for a moment in surprise, then stood up, as if pulled in by a strong wind. He looked into George’s eyes, soft, down to his small smile that said ‘peace’. 

In an instant, they were together again, connected. They found the same page, and Dream’s hands found the sides of George’s face once again. There would be time to sort it all out. They had time. Dream would wait, and so would George. And now, George wrapped his arms around him, and they kissed, softly, full of emotion, and Dream felt relief like a clear sky washing over him. 

**Author's Note:**

> please come visit me on twitch.tv/hannahex or twitter @hannahexx


End file.
